Fate Revenant SSS
by James D. Fawkes
Summary: There was no future for Angra Mainyu, so perhaps the only way was to change the outcome and make one. Emiya Shirou's accidental wish was just the catalyst needed. Rebuild of Fate/Revenant Sword.
1. 0: I Am

**Prologue: I Am  
— o.0.O.O.0.o — **

Emiya Shirou was not stupid.

He wasn't as smart or as clever as Tousaka Rin, no, and compared to her, he was a naive simpleton, but that just meant that he might need to be told something two or three times before it really stuck. It also meant that what Tousaka had told him about Servants was never really forgotten, even if he didn't think of it every second of every day, because she had drilled it into his head enough for it to stick.

So Shirou wasn't surprised, as the sun rose and the bright light of the dawn became almost blinding, that when he blinked and his eyes adjusted to the sunrise, Saber was gone. Even though he had almost come to hope that she might stay, even though she had been so warm and so real that he had almost forgotten that she was a Servant, a miracle that appeared and disappeared like lightning, he was not surprised to find she had vanished. At the touch of a stiff breeze, even the grass that had bent beneath her feet straightened and removed the last physical sign of her presence.

She had returned to that hill — was, even now, telling Bedivere to cast Excalibur into the lake.

A bittersweet smile curled on Shirou's lips.

"That's just like you."

She was gone, and it felt almost like his heart had been carved from his chest — but that was okay. She might have taken everything of him with her, but she had left everything of herself with him, and he would carry that for the rest of his life.

But she was gone. There was nothing else he could do for her, now. He needed to stop moping and take care of those still left — of Ilya and Tousaka.

"Right," Shirou told himself with a nod. "No more messing around."

He turned on his heel towards Ilya, but couldn't stop himself from pausing and glancing back one last time to the spot where Saber had been standing. Only the gold light of the dawn shone back at him, and he forced himself to look away, to focus on the little girl who lay, naked, on the ground — no more distractions.

"I need to go back."

Shirou took one step, then two, but on the third, the ground beneath him shook suddenly, and he stumbled.

"What?"

The destroyed mountain rumbled like a volcano about to blow, and the trees quivered, leaves shimmering in the sunlight. Every tremble vibrated up through Shirou's shoes and into his legs, and it was so violent that he nearly tumbled sideways and into the dirt. It felt as though the world itself were being shorn apart.

"What the —"

And then, _then_ , it came. The putrid air, like the breath of a waking giant, that had been swept away by Excalibur radiated upwards like heat from a bonfire. The sticky, mana-filled aura pressed down and in from all sides, pushing against him, and as his mind raced and tried to understand what was happening, that was when it finally appeared.

Seething up through the ground, bubbling and boiling through the cracks in the earth, there was a black tar. Low pops, barely audible, crackled and snapped all around him, and the foul stench of decay invaded his nose sharply.

Shirou's heart skipped a beat.

No. It wasn't possible. Saber had just —

The black sludge seeped like oil through the dirt, and everything it touched caught ablaze. The green grass withered and shriveled and turned to ash, and the trees with their shimmering leaves splintered and wilted as the life was drained away — no, as their existence was denied, rejected —

Cursed.

Shirou took a reflexive step back. A bead of sweat curled down his face, and he grimaced, a nasty feeling coiling in his belly.

"Ilya!" he called, looking around, but Ilya didn't answer him, and the heat from the flames distorted everything into vague blobs of black-brown-green. That first bead of sweat had become a torrent, and the fire sucked away all the oxygen in the air, making it hard to breathe. The sweltering warmth was oppressive and overwhelming — and it was familiar.

 ** _Rape._**

 ** _Murder._**

 ** _Fratricide._**

 ** _Patricide._**

 ** _Genocide._**

 ** _The starting penalty is five._**

He knew this feeling, the cloying breath of darkness. He knew this fire. The flames around him were old friends — old enemies — and he welcomed them — he rejected them.

This was the blaze that had forged Emiya Shirou.

If it spread, if it made its way into the city...

Everyone would die. _Everyone_.

He couldn't allow that. _Emiya Shirou_ could not accept that future.

But no matter what he thought of, nothing seemed adequate. In the first place, if even _Excalibur_ wasn't enough to destroy it, then what hope was there for any of the other weapons he could think of? What use were the treasures he had seen used by Gilgamesh? What use was Gae Bolg or the Married Blades?

Shirou took another step back. In front of him, where the concentration of mud was thickest, a vaguely humanoid shape, like a silhouette without arms or legs, began to take shape. First one eye, then a second, then two more, formed, and the disgusting parody of a human being split beneath the eyes into an unnaturally broad grin, complete with jagged, shark-like teeth.

Angra Mainyu. All the World's Evils. The tainted Holy Grail.

...He had no choice, then. As Emiya Shirou, there was nothing else for him to do.

"Sorry, Ilya," he said to the girl who had been lost among the flames. She was likely already gone.

"Sorry, Tousaka," he said to the girl who lay, half-dead, on his living room floor, half the city away, "but it looks like I won't be coming back."

He started up the process.

In the back of his head, the hammer of a pistol cocked back and fired, and the magic circuits turned on, flooding with Prana.

"Trace, on."

He had known, somewhere in the back of his head, that he couldn't do this. He had known, somewhere in the back of his head, where he never acknowledged it consciously, that this one projection was beyond his abilities. With the same certainty that ordinary men knew being struck by lightning would mean death, Shirou knew that this projection was not something that could be done.

It would destroy him.

If he completed it, then it would burn him away, too, and there would be nothing left of him afterwards.

To begin with, something so divine was not something that could be forged or reforged by human hands.

Emiya Shirou was only human.

But even knowing that it would kill him as well, he started it up anyway. He reached into himself and imagined that golden radiance, the greatest of holy swords, and constructed the blueprint as much as he could. There were pieces missing, whole sections that he had to adlib because he didn't know the proper structure, and if he compared it to the original, it could only have appeared as what it was — a poor imitation, a superficial semblance.

But even as a fraction, a fragment, a fragment of a fragment, it was still the most powerful weapon he had ever seen. Even the treasures in the Gate of Babylon had paled in comparison.

Shirou's magic circuits strained, and the magical energy surging through them ran wild and ravaged him as he poured as much as he could into constructing the blueprint he'd imagined. His body turned hot, as hot as the flames around him, and his brain began to sizzle in his head as he did the first thing Rin had taught him not to do: he performed magecraft beyond his capabilities.

In his hand, the frame that would form his projection began to take shape.

With the sword he was about to create, he would destroy the Grail, the tainted mud that was boiling around him. There would be nothing left — not even Emiya Shirou.

But the mouth was not perturbed. Angra Mainyu did not flinch or shy away. Instead, the wide grin only grew wider, and with his brain burning under the stress of creating something he was not able to create, he could not understand why.

He was about to destroy it.

He was about to deal the finishing blow, save the city, save humanity, at the cost of his own life. But Angra Mainyu was not at all threatened.

Why was that?

The mouth opened wide, dribbling black ooze past its teeth and down its lipless face.

" _Your wish_ ," the mouth said in a high-pitched, gurgling voice, " _shall be granted._ "

The mud surged. Tendrils of black ichor lashed out at him from all sides. Shirou dodged, throwing himself out of the way as he held desperately to the image he was trying to force into the world, but when he landed, it was in the malevolent tar. The instant his foot touched back down, splashing in the oozing darkness, the mud leapt up and wound tight about his foot and leg.

He was caught.

"Guh —"

More tendrils came, and more, and more, wrapping around his legs and arms and binding him in place as the bubbling, frothing curses climbed with deceptive quickness up his body. There was no escape — in moments, it had reached his chest, and then his head, and every place it touched was seared through like the touch of a cattle prod. His clothing evaporated like water in the desert, and then it was just his skin. He could hear it sizzling.

It burned.

It burned.

It burned.

Wherever the mud touched, his skin burned and blistered and was boiled down to the bone. His very marrow was set alight, and with every blob of mud that fell onto his skin, a thousand curses were placed upon him.

 _Die_ , they all said.

 _Die_ , _die_ , _die_.

 _Die, Die, Die._

 _DieDieDIEDIE_ _ **DIEDIEDIE**_ —

He was going to die.

Shirou screamed as everything that was Emiya Shirou began to burn. An endless stream of curses was laid upon him, and his brain couldn't process anything other than the agony of every part of him, body and soul, being set alight and left to shrivel in the blaze.

In his hand, the image of Excalibur had already vanished, shattered into motes of light — but he was beyond noticing, beyond caring. His brain couldn't focus on something so unimportant when he was burning, when —

He was going to die.

The blackness of the mud that covered every part of him started to give way to the blackness of unconsciousness. The wires in his brain started to short circuit under the stress of the agony his body was in.

It was only natural. The mind could only take so much before the lights turned off. There was a limit, a threshold that triggered an automatic shutdown when passed.

He was going to die.

Emiya Shirou was being burned out. Everything that made Emiya Shirou was being burned away. Emiya Shirou's body was being burned. Emiya Shirou's mind was being burned. Emiya Shirou's soul was being burned. In the end, there would be nothing left of Emiya Shirou.

As he had been in that fire, in that —

Hell.

Shirou's eyes snapped open, even though they had been burned away in the mud.

That's right. Emiya Shirou had been forged in that fire. Emiya Shirou had been forged in the flames of that catastrophe. On that day, Emiya Shirou was born. On that day, Emiya Shirou was created. From that day forward, Emiya Shirou was —

Emiya Shirou was —

Shirou lifted his right arm, held to his body by bone, half-burned sinew, and nearly-gone muscle. He reached out, screaming with lungs filled with blood and black mud, screaming with a throat that had already been burned raw, screaming a wordless cry that didn't even make it past his lips. He reached for that distant star, the star that he had been chasing since that night Kiritsugu died.

The sound of gnashing blades filled his ears.

Emiya Shirou was —

 _—_ _tHe BoNE oF mY SWoRd_.

His fist closed around that star, around the distant dream that existed in his heart.

Emiya Shirou was —

— o.0.O.O.0.o —

 ** _To be continued_**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Fate/Stay Night.**

 **Hello, again.**

 **So, this should look at least somewhat familiar to some of you. For those who are new to this entire thing, welcome. Either way, I'll start us off by clarifying this: yes, this is a rehash of _Fate/Revenant Sword_. **

**To begin with, I started writing _Fate/Revenant Sword_ back when I first got into the Nasuverse. I was as green as a leaf in Spring, and my understanding of the mechanics was very, very limited. In other words, I didn't really have much idea what I was doing, and I've matured both as a writer and in my understanding of Nasuverse since then.**

 **That brings us to this story. Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of things I loved about Revenant Sword, and there will be several spots that are either very similar or bear some resemblance to parts in the original; a few things, especially early on, will be recycled.** **On the other hand, I'm determined to somehow mesh important aspects of all three routes into this story, and do it much better than I did the first time. We'll see if I succeed.**

 **To give you an idea, we'll be working through a very skewed version of Heaven's Feel route, with a Fate route romance. That's gonna be hard to manage, but if I do it right, incredibly awesome.**

 **However, there were also things I hated about Revenant Sword, the biggest of which is that sword I gave Shirou; by inches, it became necessary, and though Revenant Shirou is probably the most powerful Shirou ever imagined (next to _A Different Path_ Shirou, who is a _Type_ , and thereby _literally_** **invincible)** **, I've really come to despise that monstrosity I created for him. So I plotted out this and invented another monstrosity of a much weaker type.**

 **As always, read, review, and enjoy.**


	2. Chapter I: Reunion

**Chapter I: Reunion  
— o.0.O.O.0.o — **

Shirou shot up — the jolt of falling was still curling in his belly and his heart was hammering against his ribs, going a mile a minute — and his eyes snapped open, vision blurred, just in time to see a vague silver blob collide with a taller blue blob and repel it out into the darkness.

What — ?

The Grail.

Shirou's heart skipped a beat.

That's right, he'd been on the hill, the Grail that he'd thought destroyed had come to life and consumed him. He should be dead.

He should be dead.

But he wasn't.

He wasn't dead, but he also wasn't back on the hill, either.

No, the air around him didn't carry that sticky oppressiveness, like the hot breath of a waking giant, and the darkness around him was not the all-consuming darkness of the Grail that drowned and cursed everything it touched. Actually, it was more like nighttime, after the city had gone to sleep and all the inhabitants had tucked themselves into bed.

He definitely wasn't on the hill.

Then where…?

Shirou's blinked and looked around as eyes began to adjust and the familiar features of his shed, his workshop, slid into clarity. He was back home, he realized, glancing around at all of the knickknacks, doodads, and parts that constituted his experiments in magecraft. And there was the faded magic circle that had been there for as long as he could remember, the same magic circle from which Saber had appeared. Yes, this was his shed. But how…?

The silver blur came back around after driving off the blue blur, and Shirou blinked as its features slowly came into focus. It looked familiar, somehow.

He should know it, he should, but…

"Upon your summoning, I have come forth," the blur declared strongly. Shirou's heart stopped, and the air was driven from his lungs, and his stomach felt as though someone had just kicked him with steel-toed boots.

Impossible.

There was no way. Just moments ago, when the sun had risen beyond the horizon, hadn't he —

At that moment, a shard of moonlight shone down into the shed and illuminated the silver blur like a beam of light from heaven. Hair like ropes of gold done up in a braided bun, regal but pragmatic; green eyes as green as emeralds, flinty, cold, and commanding, but no less magnificent for it; skin like porcelain and a face that could put the Greek goddesses to shame; a blue dress, silvery armor, and an invisible sheath of wind which hid the greatest sword ever crafted.

Impossible.

There was no way that it could be her.

When he'd first saw her, Shirou had been stunned into silence by her magnificent beauty. Now, however, he found himself breathless not because of how beautiful she was, but because the person who stood before his eyes had already vanished before them. He couldn't speak because he was seeing something which wasn't possible — something that had already occurred, and which couldn't occur again.

After all, those things which men called miracles were things that only happened once.

"I ask of you," she went on with the same calm, cool tone that he remembered of her, "are you my Master?"

Shirou couldn't say anything — could barely even breathe. Every thought in his head had ground to a halt, and everything that tried to stir to life all stuttered to a stop when they ran into the same problem: this was impossible.

Shirou had just said goodbye to her, so she could not be standing in front of him. And yet she was. And yet she was. And yet —

Shirou had just been on the hill, at the top of Mount Enzou, and the sun had just started rising above the horizon in the distance. And yet, he was in his shed in the middle of the night. And yet, he was in his shed in the middle of the night. And yet —

This was not possible.

Because he recognized this scene. Because he recognized this event. Because he recognized what had just happened.

Lancer had just cornered him in his shed with intent to kill. Lancer had just poised his red spear, Gáe Bolg, to pierce Shirou's heart. Lancer had thrust the spear, but the summoning circle had responded to his desperate wish to live and summoned a Servant of his own — Saber, King Arthur, Arturia Pendragon. And Saber had just repelled Lancer with enough force to throw him from the shed.

That was what had happened.

That was what had happened.

"I, Servant Saber, have come forth in response to your summons," Saber continued, except she might as well be speaking another language for all that Shirou comprehended what she was saying. "Please, give me an order, Master."

But it had happened nearly two weeks ago, hadn't it? The Holy Grail War had ended.

Yes, that was right, the Holy Grail War had ended. This woman before him had been the one to deliver the final blow and destroy the Holy Grail. This woman before him had been the one to end the War. And then he had said goodbye to her.

So why? Why was he seeing this scene again?

The stinging chill of the concrete beneath his palms — he hadn't noticed it before — was suddenly offset by the searing pain that erupted on the back of his hand, as though a white hot branding iron had been pressed into his skin. He let out a hiss almost reflexively and his eyes jerked of their own accord from her face to glance down at the spot of the burn.

An ornate design that bore a resemblance to Caliburn's ornamentation rested there — the Command Spells, the three marks that symbolized the stigmata, the right of a Master in the Holy Grail War.

Shirou jerked his head back up in time to see Saber give a quiet nod, and with a funny feeling in his stomach, the possibility dawned in his brain: this might be real.

"From this time forth," she said, "my sword shall be with you and your fate shall be with me. With this, the accord between us has been struck. Our contract is now complete."

And if this was real, Shirou reasoned, then that meant the person in front of him was truly Saber — was truly the same woman he'd just said goodbye to, only she seemed not to have any knowledge of the events that he had lived over the course of the War.

Why? Was he the only one who remembered?

Focus, he told himself. Worry about that later.

Because if this was real and not some fevered dream or some illusion conjured by the Grail or…or _whatever_ , then what came next was…

Lancer.

Gáe Bolg.

She turned around, and Shirou flung himself off the ground and towards her to grab her wrist, to warn her about the spear — but she dashed out of the shed and was already gone by the time his fingers curled around where her wrist had been, and Shirou fell through the empty space and onto his face.

It stung when he landed, and he felt something warm run down from his nose — he thought, as liquid fire spread through the front of his face and across his cheeks, that he might have broken it.

But that didn't matter.

He pushed himself up and scrambled to his feet, ignored what had to be blood weeping from his nostrils, and with the practice and experience gained from forging a magic circuit from his own nerves, forced his focus past the pain. This was nothing.

"Wait!" he called out hoarsely. "Saber, he's —!"

But they'd already begun fighting when he stepped out of the shed. Lancer's spear was already lashing out, lightning fast, and Saber was already parrying every blow with her invisible sword, forcing Lancer back and back. It was an exact repeat of that first night, so familiar that the strikes which were once invisible to Shirou were now almost as clear as day.

And, as he remembered, Lancer was overwhelmed by Saber's strength, retreating more and more with every attack so that his eyes could keep track of her hands because he couldn't see her sword.

"Damn!"

He stepped back again, lance held up to block as Saber swung for his ribs. The crackling magical energy Saber put behind each blow ignited as sparks as her sword struck Lancer's spear.

"What are you, a coward?" Lancer growled. "Why don't you stop hiding that weapon of yours and fight for real!"

Saber's only answer was to charge forward again, driving Lancer even further back with three more powerful swings. Lancer's spear lit up with each blow, aglow with the monstrous amount of magical energy Saber unleashed as she swung.

But it was not going to be enough. It hadn't been that first time, and it wouldn't be this time. Shirou knew, acutely, that Lancer would keep defending and keep dodging up until he had no other choice, and at that moment, Gáe Bolg would be activated, and the spear that could not be dodged would lodge itself in Saber's body.

If she was as lucky as last time, she'd escape with only an injury.

If she wasn't, Saber would be killed for sure.

That was why the only thing Shirou could do was try to think of a way to stop that spear before it struck. The alternative was simply unthinkable.

The muscles in Saber's back tensed — Shirou saw them, the way her blue dress shifted and bunched up as those muscles compressed in preparation for what came next — and with a cry, a loud exhalation turned into a wordless shout, she drove forward one more time and attacked with all her strength.

"Don't underestimate me!"

But Lancer was not going to be defeated like that. Saber's swing cut through the air and struck only the ground, blowing away chunks of grass and dirt, because Lancer had already leapt out of the way. In an instant, the distance between them had increased to five meters.

Saber straightened. Across from her, Lancer stood, spear raised in guard.

"Come now, Lancer," she said. "You'll disgrace yourself if you just stand there. If you don't come to me, then I will come to you."

"Ha!" Lancer grinned darkly. "You want to die that badly? Then come on! But answer me a question, first. Your Noble Phantasm — it's a sword, right?"

Saber's expression didn't change at all, and her voice remained even and cold. "Who knows? Perhaps it's an axe, or maybe a spear, or it might even be a bow."

"Heh!" Lancer chuckled. "First, an Archer pretending to be a Saber, and now a Saber pretending to be a Lancer. What a beginning to this Grail War."

He lowered his lance so that the tip pressed close to the ground. It looked like he was standing down or surrendering.

But Shirou knew better. That stance was —

"But this is just our first meeting, so I should probably ask you, do you want to call it even?

"You…!"

"It's not a bad deal, right? Your Master over there is pretty useless, and my Master is a coward. I think we'd both be better off if we postponed this fight until we're all better prepared. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I refuse. Once two Servants meet in battle, necessity dictates that only one may walk away. You will fall now, Lancer."

Lancer clucked his tongue. "I see. Geez. I was only gonna check things out. Once you showed up, I wasn't planning on staying any longer."

The air froze. In an instant, the magical energy floating about became like ice and a blanket of murderous intent seethed outward. The red lance began to vibrate.

Shirou knew what came next. He knew, but he couldn't think of anything to do about it. No, in the first place, how did you block an unblockable lance? How did you stop an unstoppable thrust?

Even so, no matter what, he couldn't let it happen, so he rushed forward as fast as his legs would carry him.

"See ya."

"Saber!"

"I'll be taking that heart of yours!"

In the same instant, three things happened.

Lancer leapt forward and thrust his spear towards Saber's feet, crying, "Gáe —!"

Saber, sensing danger, started to move backwards, trying to push herself out of Lancer's range, but she wouldn't be fast enough. Before she could make it, Lancer's spear would hit its mark.

Shirou, unable to do anything else, threw himself between them, intending to take the thrust meant for Saber.

"— Bolg!"

Causality was reversed. The sequence of cause and effect was overwritten so that the effect came before the cause. Shirou did not have time to brace himself for the oncoming attack, for the spear that would pierce his heart; he only knew what would result from it.

Gáe Bolg twisted and turned, bending up at an impossible angle from Saber's feet and passing under any guard —

"Saber!"

— and passed around Shirou's body to lodge itself in Saber's chest.

Shirou, already in motion, stumbled to the side and fell to the ground, and behind him, Saber was picked up off her feet and launched backwards by Lancer's thrust.

"Kuh — !"

Shirou rolled with the fall and scrambled back to his feet as quickly as he was able, but by the time he finally stood again, Saber was already back up, pressing one armored hand to her wounded shoulder. Red, red blood wept through her gauntlets and stained her regal blue dress.

"A curse…no, a reversal of causality!" she spat.

For a second time, Saber had evaded a lance that could not be dodged. For a second time, she had avoided a blow that was supposed to be fatal, no matter what, with only a wounded shoulder.

But Shirou could not be impressed by that, this time. Instead, all he could feel was a cool rush of relief that she hadn't been killed. Even as he watched, Shirou could see the wound beginning to close and heal.

That was just the outside, though. A wound like that wouldn't heal all the way so quickly or easily.

"And Gáe Bolg," Saber breathed, face contorted in pain. "Then you are…Ireland's Child of Light, the Hound of Culann."

Lancer clucked his tongue again, scowling. "Guess there's such a thing as too much fame. Man, you dodged my Gáe Bolg, too. I've just got no luck tonight."

The murderous intent vanished. The red spear, tip still coated in blood, was lowered, then slung casually over the shoulders, and Lancer turned away to leave.

"You're running away!?"

"Yeah," Lancer answered without hesitation or shame. "I know it's the rule that you're supposed to fight to the death if your identity gets discovered, but my Master's a coward. He's ordered me to return since you managed to dodge my lance. Of course…"

The head turned about, and a single red eye stared back, piercingly intense.

"…I wouldn't object if you came after me. But if you do, I'll really kill you, this time."

With a one bound, Lancer leapt over the wall and vanished into the night.

"Wait, Lancer!"

Saber ran to follow him, and Shirou scrambled forward to stop her, but when she went jump over the wall, she stumbled to a stop, and he saw one hand lift up to the wound in her chest.

When he reached her, it took all of Shirou's control not to stretch out his hand and make sure she was real, to touch her face, to run his fingers through her golden hair, to confirm with his hands that this wasn't just some dream or hallucination. Even now, it felt so surreal, so impossible that he was sure he was going to wake up any moment to realize he'd come back from the Ryûdô Temple, Grail destroyed and everything, and had fallen asleep.

"Saber…" He whispered her name, so quietly that it was more like a breath or a sigh than a word. His right hand started to rise, fingers unfurling, and he was going to…to…he wasn't even sure what.

She turned to him abruptly, eyes cold and voice colder. "Master. My wounds, if you please."

Shirou flinched.

"Ah, that's not…" His hand rose the rest of the way and rubbed embarrassedly at the back of his neck. "I mean, my name isn't 'Master.' It's Shirou. Emiya Shirou. And this is my house…"

What was he even saying? Heat flooded his cheeks with each word, and he wasn't even sure what was coming out of his mouth or why.

Why was he so _stupid_? That wasn't what he should be concerned about.

"Emiya…"

Saber whispered it, an unreadable expression on her face, and Shirou remembered what she told him about how terribly she'd gotten along with Kiritsugu as her Master, then she shook herself slightly and gave a shallow nod. "Very well, then, Shirou. Yes, that sounds pleasing to me. Now, please heal my wounds."

"That's…what I was trying to say. I can't do something like that. Magecraft of that level is way beyond me."

"I see," she said. She looked away, over the wall that fenced in the back yard, and seemed to be weighing something in her head. "That's fine. One more battle shouldn't be a problem. Judging by their presence, there's no cause for concern."

She glanced at him only long enough to order, "Shirou, there are two more enemies outside. Please wait here."

Enemies? But the only one who could be —

 _Tousaka!_

This time, Shirou was fast enough to catch her wrist before she leapt away, and even so, she'd already begun to release the strength in her legs. Even that slight jerk forward, the aborted power that only pulled her a few inches, was almost enough to tear Shirou's arm right out of its socket.

Saber spun around, expression thunderous.

"Shirou, what —"

"Just listen for a minute," he ground out. There was almost no feeling in his arm, but for the sharp pain where his biceps connected to his shoulder. "I may not know much magecraft, but I at least know this much! There's a Bounded Field around this house that alerts you if someone enters with malicious intentions. My old man set it up himself."

"Even so, Shirou, there's an enemy Servant —!"

"And that's what I'm saying! We don't even know if it's an enemy! And besides," he offered her something of a cross between a smile and a grimace, "if it's who I think it is, then you don't need to worry."

He was confident about that much. No matter what else, Tousaka had been his friend, in the end.

"But if you're that concerned, we can wait for them at the front door," he added. "That way, we'll have the advantage, right?"

Saber considered him for a moment, green eyes chilly, and then gave Shirou a slight, stiff nod. "Very well, then, Shirou," she said coolly. "We shall do as you say."

 **— o.0.O.O.0.o —**

By the time they made it to the front door, Tousaka's footsteps were already close enough that Shirou could hear them, followed closely by a second, heavier pair. Next to him, Shirou saw Saber grasp tightly at her invisible sword, but, in spite of the nervous uncertainty flitting about in his stomach, he forced himself to remain calm.

Maybe it really was all a dream, some part of him still reasoned. Even though several facts that he had only witnessed in those memories of the "future" had already borne out, especially in regards to Lancer and his spear, there was still something inside of Shirou that didn't want to believe it.

But the rest of him was sure: if there was anything in the world capable of turning back time, of sending him back to the night of the Grail War's beginning, then it was the Holy Grail itself. It wasn't actually the how that truly bothered him, it was the why.

Of all things, why interpret such a simple comment as a wish to go back to the past?

The front gate was suddenly flung open, and the presence of Tousaka Rin, one hand wrapped around a gemstone and ready to throw it, dispelled the last lingering doubts.

It was true, then. Time travel.

"Archer!" Tousaka began, only to falter as she saw Shirou and Saber standing there, and then Shirou got to watch her do something very rare indeed.

She gaped, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, at him.

"Emiya!?"

Shirou lifted a single hand and offered her something of a wry smile. "Yo, Tousaka."

"You," she sputtered, "a Servant?!"

"Would you believe me if I said it was an accident?"

"I — You — What?"

"Master," Archer rumbled sharply.

That seemed to snap her out of it, and Tousaka gave a sigh. "Right." It was interesting, watching the little signs that he had just started learning to read show up as she reined herself in. She gave Shirou a smile, so painfully false that he wondered how he'd never seen through it before the Grail War. "Good evening, Emiya-kun."

Shirou blinked. "Ah — Tousaka —"

"I believe there's some things for us to discuss, aren't there?" she bulldozed right through what he'd been about to say and took control of the situation. "Then we should take this inside, to a more appropriate setting, shouldn't we?"

"Ah…yeah…"

Absently, Shirou thought that this was just like her. Tousaka's personality was…very forceful. When she got like this, it was better just to go along with whatever she said, because if you tried to protest, then she would just make you look stupid with logic and common sense.

But he remembered, at the last moment, to say, "But our Servants stay out here."

Tousaka blinked, and Saber's expression morphed into one of protestation. "Shirou —"

"I don't trust Archer," Shirou told her plainly, and it wasn't even a lie, it just wasn't the reason he actually wanted her to stay out of the conversation. "So, Saber, I want you to keep an eye on him."

Her brow furrowed. "And yet, you trust his Master enough to speak with her without my protection."

"I do," he admitted, because he really did. "And even if Tousaka attacks me, I can at least hold her off long enough for you to come and help."

He remembered running through the empty halls of the school, Tousaka on his heels firing Gandr shots at him…yeah, if it really came down to a fight, the least he could do was buy a few precious moments for Saber to come to his rescue.

Tousaka smiled, and even though there was no malice behind it, Shirou knew better than to think it was a pleasant expression. "My, Emiya-kun, you do know that arrogance is very unattractive, right?"

"So, it'll be fine," Shirou went on, ignoring Tousaka.

Saber's face very clearly showed how much she didn't like the situation, but she didn't offer any further protest. "Very well, Master. But please, call to me if you need assistance."

"I will."

 **— o.0.O.O.0.o —**

"I'm from the future."

The moment they were seated at the table in the living room, Shirou blurted it out without hesitation.

"Wha — ?"

For the second time in less than twenty minutes, Shirou got to see the rare expression of complete and total surprise on Rin's face.

"You're a Magician?!" she squeaked in an unusually choked voice. He opened his mouth to deny it, but before he could say anything, Rin's incredible brain kicked in and started working through what he'd said, sparse as it was. "N-no, wait, if you were, then you wouldn't… How far ahead?"

"About two weeks."

"Two weeks?!" she spluttered. "But then — I — you — the Grail… You made a wish on the Grail to go back to the beginning of the Grail War?!"

"Not exactly…"

He explained it to her as best as he was able, everything that had happened at the end — what he'd said, the mud that appeared and covered the ruined mountain, those last moments where he was consumed and shunted back — and when he finished, Rin was silent and her brow was scrunched up in thought. For a minute that bordered on an eternity, she stayed like that and said nothing, inscrutable and unreadable.

He saw the moment when she decided to believe him, the drooping of her shoulders as she resigned herself to what he'd said as fact.

"I guess, then," she said quietly, "it really isn't something worth fighting over after all."

"No, it isn't."

She sighed. "Geez," she groused, "all of that effort only to find out the prize at the end is nothing more than a gigantic monkey's paw. Somehow, I feel cheated."

"Yeah."

Rin sighed again, and then looked back up at him.

"Alright," she said calmly. "I guess the fact that you're coming to me with this means we teamed up, am I right?"

He remembered the lectures and the advice and the helping hand that had braved even Ilya's mansion to come and rescue him. In the beginning, yeah, it probably was only a relationship of convenience, a team created for the sole purpose of fighting a greater enemy, but by the end of it, they'd become friends, he liked to think.

"Pretty much from the start," he answered honestly.

"So we must've come to trust each other, then," she mused. "Quite a bit, I imagine. But Emiya," here, she gave him a look he couldn't quite place, "why wouldn't you want to tell Saber all of this? All things considered, wouldn't it be better to have her on the same page, so that she knows what to expect? And I'd also think it'd make things smoother if she knew the Grail had to be destroyed from the beginning."

For a moment, Shirou didn't answer, not because he didn't have an answer, but because he wasn't quite sure how to explain the one he did have. He remembered the girl at the end, the girl Arturia smiling at him as she confessed her love with the sun rising at her back. He remembered that moment in the church, where she rejected the Grail and chose him instead, and all of the frustrating moments in the days prior to that where she would have probably made the opposite decision. He remembered the slow and steady change, how the stoic and unmovable Servant had been peeled away to let out the girl who didn't quite know how to be a girl.

And Shirou knew, with a certainty that was more like instinct than logic, that simply handing her the answer would absolutely prevent her from reaching that same answer. Maybe it was selfish, maybe it was wrong, but above all, he absolutely wanted that girl to be saved. And in that case, he absolutely must not tell her the answer she was searching for.

"Tousaka." He enunciated her name clearly and solemnly. "There's…someone that you care about, maybe more than you've ever cared about anyone, and she's looking for something, and she's looking for it because she thinks it can give her what she wants. But it can't. And what she wants isn't what she really wants. And you know that it can't and you know what she really wants, but she doesn't, and if you tell her, if you give her the answer you know she'll one day find, then it'll make the answer worthless, because she didn't find it herself."

Shirou wasn't sure he'd made any sense, and honestly, someone else probably would've explained it much better and much more clearly. Of course, this was Tousaka Rin, a genius magus that made a third rate hack like him seem like a novice, so despite his rambling, she still understood what he was trying to say.

"I see. Bypassing the process and method of solving the question to arrive directly at the answer makes the answer meaningless — that's what you're saying." She sighed yet again and gave him that look that had always made him feel incredibly stupid. "I feel like I should chastise you for falling in love with a Servant, I really do, but if we really did team up, then I'm sure I've already told you all of that, so there's no point."

"Yeah." Shirou rubbed embarrassedly at the back of his neck. "Basically, yeah."

"Alright." Rin accepted it without further comment. "What now, then?"

"Now?"

"Where do we go from here, I mean," she clarified.

"I…" Shirou paused and grimaced. "To be honest," he admitted, "I was gonna ask you the same thing."

She gave him another of her looks, and if he hadn't been so used to it, seen it so many times, he might have found it insulting. By now, though, it'd been directed his way often enough that he only felt a little stupid.

"Well," she began, "if it was _me_ , I'd try and do as many things the same as possible, up until I reached the first thing I thought I should have done differently. The rest of the knowledge you no doubt have, about Servants and their Masters, is ludicrously useful, but you also have an advantage that's ten times as good: you know what everyone is going to do before they do it."

Shirou rubbed at his neck again. "I mean, well…I guess?"

"Here's the thing, though," she warned, holding up a finger. "Anything you do could change how things go at any moment. The tiniest details can sometimes cause the biggest ripples, like throwing a boulder into a pond. I'm not talking silly stuff, like what you had for breakfast, but one word different to one person could change their actions entirely. We're going to hold onto this advantage for as long as possible, but don't think that automatically means everything will happen exactly the same way. Understand?"

"I…think so, yeah."

"Right." She nodded. "So. What happens, next?"

Shirou thought back to that first time, what they'd done next. First, Lancer, yes, and then, later on, there'd been a fight with Ilya and Berserker, but before that, they'd… Oh yeah.

"You took me to see Kotomine," he answered, "so that he could explain the rules to me."

Rin nodded again.

"Yeah, that sounds like what I would have done," she agreed. "Okay, then, let's get going."

She stood up from the table, legs unfolding, and smoothed her skirt down. Shirou looked up at her, somewhat nonplussed.

"Now? You don't want to talk about everything else, first?"

"You can tell me about it all later," she dismissed, flicking a few strands of hair over her shoulder. "Some other time, when we don't have a schedule to keep. For now, we should make sure to stick to the script, and if I know myself as well as I like to think I do, I wouldn't have explained anything more than the bare bones of the situation if I was going to take you to see that fake priest anyway."

"That's…" Actually, not too far off. He didn't quite remember everything she'd said, that first night, other than a distinct feeling that she'd lamented his stupidity at least once, but he certainly remembered that most of the important bits had been told to him by Kotomine at the church. "Yeah. Alright ,then."

Shirou stood up, too, stretching out his legs — he'd only been sitting for a few minutes, but with Rin, it could still feel like hours.

"If we have time, then we'll talk about it after we get back," Rin said. "More likely, though, I'll just wait until tomorrow and interrogate you then."

Something to look forward to, Shirou thought. Out loud, he said, "Right."

"Then, let's go find Archer and Saber and get on our way."

She turned away and started for the door, and Shirou made to follow after her, stepping around the dining room table, when a thought suddenly struck him.

"Say, Tousaka."

Rin stopped and looked back at him over her shoulder with cool blue eyes. "Hm? Is something wrong, Emiya?"

"No, it's nothing." Shirou shook his head. "Just…how come you believed me so easily? About this time travel stuff and everything."

She smiled at him, a sly, catlike smile he'd gotten very used to and which naturally proceeded an insult of some kind. In some strange, probably twisted way, Shirou found it a very comforting sight, because there, _there_ was the Tousaka he knew.

"Hm? Oh, that's easy. After all, what kind of idiot would actually admit to being a time traveler?"

 **— o.0.O.O.0.o —**

They rejoined their Servants thereafter to find Saber glaring distrustfully at a relaxed, completely blasé Archer, and after a moment of reaffirming their plans (which Saber wasn't quite happy about, but accepted grudgingly since Shirou was unharmed), Archer vanished into his astral form and they started on their way.

There wasn't any talking for most of the hour it took to walk to the church, although Shirou found that he could still surprise Rin when he showed her the shortcut to the bridge. Once they got to Shinto, Shirou gave the reigns back to Rin and let her lead them into the suburbs and up the hill.

After that, it wasn't long before the church, tall and grand-looking, loomed out of the darkness like some terrible beast standing guard over the gates to hell. If it weren't for what he knew waited inside, if it weren't for the tortured orphans he knew were sequestered down in the basement to serve as batteries for Gilgamesh, he might — he had, back when first seeing it — have thought it majestic.

Shirou felt his hands curl into fists, and he wanted, right there, to order Saber to destroy it, to wipe away the evils sequestered inside. Kotomine would be gone. Gilgamesh would be taken by surprise and eliminated. Those orphans, whose fate he had escaped only because Kiritsugu had saved him, would be set free. It would all be cleansed by Excalibur's golden light.

But he latched onto what Rin had said. Follow the script. Let things go as they had gone. If he did, then the time would come to destroy this place. The tragedies occurring within, even as he stood there, would be finished. Kotomine and Gilgamesh would get what they deserved.

So, he let out a slow breath through his nostrils and forced his fingers to unfurl.

"Let's go," Shirou said, hoping his voice didn't give away the turmoil inside of him.

Rin, who had no doubt noticed his tension and was looking at him with one arched eyebrow, smoothed her face back over and nodded.

"Shirou." But it was Saber's voice, as he started forward, that stopped him. "I will remain out here."

He looked back at her, and he wondered if she could sense it, if she could perceive even a portion of the wrongness that pervaded the walls. Could she feel the agony of those orphans? Could she feel the twisted presence of Gilgamesh?

"I accompanied you to this place in order to protect you," she explained calmly. Belatedly, Shirou remembered that Archer was still hanging around, too. "If this church is where you will be tonight, then I am sure I will be able to find you within its proximity."

"All right." Shirou nodded. "I'll be going, then."

"Yes. But please, do not let down your guard, Master." She glanced pointedly at Rin. "No matter who it is you face."

For a moment, Shirou wanted to argue, for the second time, that he trusted Rin, but he kept his mouth shut, because he didn't want to stay anywhere near the church longer than was necessary. Every moment made it harder to keep himself from ordering its destruction, and if he did that, then that advantage Rin had talked about earlier would fly right out the window.

So he only turned away and followed Rin into the chapel.

It was like stepping back into that fire. For a single instant, he blinked, and he was back in the middle of that blaze, people falling and dying all around him as he trod onwards, discarding everything one piece at a time. He could feel the fingers of those trapped wrapping around his limbs to hold him back, and the weight of the suffering which must, even then, have been happening beneath his feet was like chains dragging him downwards into that bottomless pit of evil.

Then, he blinked again, and he was back in the church. He noticed his hands were shaking, and if he let himself focus on it too much, he could almost hear the cries of those who perished in that fire. Shirou took a deep breath and forced himself to try to remember what had happened here that first time.

Think, he told himself. Pretend you don't know Kotomine Kirei. Pretend you don't know anything about the Grail War. What do you ask? Something like…

"Say, Tousaka," he began. "What…" He swallowed around the lump in his throat. "What kind of guy is this priest, anyway?"

Rin glanced back over at him, confused, but a moment later, it smoothed back over as she realized what he was doing. Well, she realized that he was following the script, not that he was trying to focus on anything but the orphans he knew were beneath them in the basement.

"It's kind of hard to explain," she said. "He's sort of like my senior, because he studied under my father ten years ago, but he's also served as my second teacher, ever since my father died. On top of that, he also happens to be my legal guardian."

"So he's a magus."

"That's why I call him a fake priest," Rin said it like she was sharing a secret joke. "A heretic who practices magic while also serving as an agent of the Holy Church… It's like someone didn't realize the punchline was terrible."

Suddenly, Shirou remembered the Azoth dagger. "And you've known him for ten years?"

"Ever since my father died in the last Grail War, yes," Rin affirmed. "He also happens to be the moderator for _this_ Grail War."

But Shirou had stopped listening. Ten years, during the last Grail War, Rin's father had died, and Kotomine Kirei had been his student. With a sickening feeling in his gut, Shirou started to wonder: had Kirei killed Rin's father, too?

There was a way to find out. He just had to get a look at the Azoth dagger Rin would still, at this point, have and read its history. If it had been used to kill someone ten years ago, then that person could only be…

"Ten years…"

"If it had been entirely my decision," Rin commented drily, "our association wouldn't have lasted _ten seconds_."

"I possess the same sentiment," a deep voice purred, amused, and Shirou felt himself stiffen. Kotomine Kirei stepped out of the darkness like a phantom, a small smirk curling on his lips. "I have no attachment to an apprentice who does not respect her teacher."

His posture was confident and his hands were held behind his back. If it were anyone else, Shirou might have called it dignified, but on Kotomine Kirei, it only served to make him look like a supervillain.

"You don't return my calls," Kotomine drawled on, "and now you bring around strange guests…though, given the timing, I suppose this must be the seventh."

"Right." Rin flipped back a few strands of hair. "This is the seventh Master. Technically, he's a magus, but he's so unbelievably inept that it pained me to ignore it. It might be a rule you invented, but I guess it's your prerogative as the supervisor, so I brought him here."

"Oh? Then it seems I owe this young man a thank you." He turned in Shirou's direction, and Shirou felt a chill race down his spine as he stared into those empty eyes. "What is your name, seventh Master?"

"…Emiya Shirou." It took all of his control not to spit it in Kotomine's face.

For a single, brief moment, there and gone so quickly that it might not have even been there, Kotomine looked dumbfounded. Then, slowly, in a way that Shirou knew meant the connection to Kiritsugu had been made, Kotomine started to smile.

"I thank you, Emiya Shirou," Kotomine said. There was a weight to his words that Shirou doubted Rin had noticed. "If you had not brought Rin here, she would not have come." For a brief moment, he closed his eyes and nodded, and everything inside of Shirou told him to strike then, in that moment of vulnerability, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to rein it in. "But that is not why were are here, is it? Then, let us begin with the formality: you are Saber's Master, correct?"

"…Yeah," Shirou managed to bite out somewhat casually. "I guess so."

Kotomine blinked. "You guess?"

"I told you," Rin chimed in. "He's a complete novice. Start from the beginning, but don't get too long winded and do unnecessary stuff like open his old wounds."

Kotomine chuckled. "Ah," he said, "so you saw right through me. Well then, skipping right to the important parts…the battle you've entered, Emiya Shirou, is called the Holy Grail War. Has Rin already explained the nature of this conflict, that of seven Masters and seven Servants fighting for the Holy Grail?"

"Yeah. She already said some stuff about Masters and Servants killing each other."

Had she? Last time, everything had been swirling from one adrenaline rush to the next, and so many people had tried to cram so much information into his head that he wasn't sure who had said what, that first night. It was a good bet, though, that if he knew something about magecraft or the Grail War, Rin was the one who'd told him.

"Not for simple sport, I assure you," Kotomine said. "These atrocities are necessary. It is all part of the ritual to acquire the Holy Grail. The War which leads up to it is merely a method of determining the one appropriate owner. It is the way the system works, you see; in order for a competitor to be deemed worthy of achieving the Holy Grail, he must first undergo the trials of competing with the others chosen to seek it. Such was decided long before the summoning of the Servants was enacted."

He held out one hand. "Seven Masters are chosen." He held out the other. "Seven Servants are summoned. The owner of the Holy Grail is the Master and Servant who defeat the others and survive until the end. To that end, in order for the owner of the Holy Grail to be determined, the others must be sacrificed until only the winner remains."

"Hold on," Rin jumped in. "Now you're twisting the facts. The Servants have to be defeated, but nowhere does it say that the enemy Masters have to be killed, too."

"I would not expect such naïveté from you, Rin," Kotomine said, turning to her. "There's no rule, no, but Servants are very powerful. It's difficult even for Servants to defeat another Servant. Without a Master, however, Servants cannot exist in this world. Therefore, the easiest way to defeat a Servant is to eliminate its Master."

"But even killing the Master isn't a guarantee," Rin argued. "Some Servants can stick around after the Master is killed, and a Master without a Servant and Servant without a Master can still form a new pact and rejoin the War. For that matter, if a Master uses up all his Command Spells, then his Servant can find a new Master, too. In that case, the tactical validity of eliminating an enemy Master is variable based upon the Servant."

"Certainly, a good point," Kotomine agreed. His eyes slid back over to Shirou. "Regardless, it is already late, and we could spend the entire night debating the semantics of the issue. To return to the original intent of this meeting, I should say that any Master who has lost his Servant is free to come here and receive sanctuary."

Rin looked like she wanted to say something, but she backed down. To his surprise, Shirou found that watching the disagreement had allowed him to relax a little.

"In the past," Kotomine went on, turning to face Shirou fully, "Masters butchered each other and those in their way indiscriminately. That is why a moderator from the Holy Church, an impartial party, was sent to oversee the ritual. The first was my father, who oversaw the Holy Grail War ten years ago, so you could say I inherited the position.

"It will be my job to officiate the ceremony and ensure that the ritual is not disrupted or ended prematurely. This will be the Fifth Grail War. The last four ended in failure, and the previous one of ten years ago was a particular disaster. Someone unworthy touched the Grail, and from that arose the great conflagration a decade past."

The fire. Shirou's hands curled back into fists. Of _course_ Kotomine would bring it up. And with those tortured orphans lying beneath their feet, too.

"I see." He forced himself to keep his voice as even as possible, but Kotomine probably thought any tremble or anger in his tone had to do with the memories of the fire. He wouldn't be entirely wrong, either. "Then what you're saying is that the only way to keep something like that from happening is to participate and make sure no one like that touches the Grail again, right?"

A large smile broke out on Kotomine's face. "Indeed, that's correct. If you wish to avert such a tragedy and prevent another from occurring again, then the most reliable method is to fight and take the Holy Grail for yourself, isn't it?"

"I don't care about the Grail," Shirou declared honestly. He tried to remember what he'd said the first time, but other than a vague sense of similarity to what he was saying now, there was nothing concrete. "It can't give me anything I want —"

"Nothing?" Kotomine smiled. "Have you truly no wish? Emiya Shirou, the power of the Holy Grail can make any desire a reality. With it, it is possible to wipe the contents of your soul clean, to clear out the mud inside of you — yes, even to go back and start your life over again."

That one hit a little too close to home, and for one wild, panicked second, Shirou wondered if Kotomine _knew_ — but that was ridiculous.

" _Nothing_ ," Shirou interrupted. "But either way, I can't ignore it if something like the fire ten years ago can happen. So, I'll fight. I'll be a Master in this Holy Grail War."

Kotomine only smiled wider. "Very well," he said grandly. "Then I shall acknowledge you as Saber's Master. With this, the Fifth Holy Grail War has officially begun. The participants shall follow their own will and struggle against each other, until only one Master remains."

"Well, all right, then," Rin said simply. "That' takes care of that. Let's get going, Emiya. It'll take us another hour to get back home."

For an instant that stretched into eternity, Shirou hesitated. Again, his insides rebelled and every fiber of his being insisted that this place had to be destroyed immediately. That satisfied look on Kirei's face only served to make it all the more insistent.

Then, the moment passed, and Shirou turned away to follow Rin. There would be another time. There would come a day where this place was razed. It was not now.

"Rejoice, Emiya Shirou," Kirei's smug voice called after him. "Your wish will certainly come true."

For another, single moment, Shirou paused and was seized by the impulse to attack, to eliminate Kirei while he wasn't expecting it, to stop the madness before it could start. Instead, he forced himself to walk away, and the doors to the church cemented his decision with a cold finality.

It was the correct decision. Until Kirei acted openly, until he came out as Lancer's Master or until Gilgamesh started moving, anyone attacking the church would be seen as attacking the impartial moderator. If the whole thing was destroyed, then so would all of the evidence vanish, and the only thing to show for it was the word of a single, amateur magus who said Kirei was meddling where he ought not.

Waiting was the correct decision.

Why, then, did it feel like Shirou had just betrayed everything that he believed in?

 **— o.0.O.O.0.o —**

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